Football! Beer! Sex! Pumpkin pie!

Finally, a blog post for everyone.

First, football. (And ladies, if you are not interested in me talking about a bunch of guys with no necks and upper arms the size of your waist in too-tight short pants constantly touching and trying to tackle each other all for a little pigskin, just scroll down the page a wee bit. I promise you will not be disappointed.)

So football. As many of you already know, yesterday afternoon the big story here in the New York City Metro Area (and probably in Tennessee, too, albeit for different reasons) was the New York Jets mowing down undefeated Tennessee for a Titan-ic upset (think crop duster and Cary Grant in "North by Northwest"). The stunning 34 - 13 upset now gives the Jets an 8 - 3 record, leaving them securely atop the AFC East. (Well, at least for another week.) Who'd a thunk it?

And, while I admit I am a wee bit disappointed that the Jets did not wear their New York Titans uniforms, I am not disappointed in the least with Brett Favre (who now has the most passing touchdowns in NFL history, passing Dan Marino -- and yes, probably the most picks, too), Leon Washington (that guy can MOVE), Laveranues (I rest my case) Coles, and the rest of Gang Green's performance today. Well done, Jets, well done.

As for the New York Giants... 10 and 1, baby -- and still leading the NFC! Giants. Could. Go. All. The. Way. (The crowd goes wild. Okay, I go wild. And the spouse. And, okay, probably several million Giants fans watching the G-Men put away the Arizona Cardinals last night, Eastern Time). Final score, 37 - 29. And they got it done without my man, Brandon Jacobs, who sat out the game with a knee injury; without Plaxico Burress, who had hamstring problems; and without David Tyree, the guy who made that amazing (and memorable) Super Bowl XLII catch. But you would have hardly known anyone was missing the way the Giants played yesterday.

I am definitely smelling Super Bowl (though it could just be leftover beer from last year's team-changing Big Game, which was also played at University of Phoenix Stadium).

And speaking of leftover beer...

As some of my readers may remember, this summer, while biking in the Pacific Northwest, I was introduced to Fat Tire Amber Ale, and quickly became addicted*. This addiction quickly turned into obsession when, upon my return to the Northeast, I discovered, you cannot get Fat Tire in the Northeast. Bereft and distraught (after discovering I could not even get New Belgium Brewing to ship me a case, nor could I find someone online who would ship me some), my dear friend, T. from B., who as far as I know isn't even that into beer, then took it upon herself to purchase and have shipped to me 20 22 oz. bottles of this nectar of the beer gods.

Beautiful, are they not? Talk about Drinkability. Mm mm.

Well, sadly, we are now down to eight bottles, two of which we are saving to give to my stepfather, who relishes a good beer, in a couple weeks. (And no, T. from B., this does NOT mean you need to order me more. Your original gift was more than generous.)

Besides, you know what too much beer leads to, right? Sex. Well, if you are lucky, guys. You know what else can lead to sex? Doing the dishes. (Hey, my man Obama is no fool.)

Just look at that picture. Is that sexy or what? Ladies, you know what I am talking about. The best part? I did not even have to ask the spouse to clean those filthy oven racks. He just donned his bright orange latex gloves and started scrubbing away, while our oven was self cleaning and we were watching the Jets game (see above). I think that behavior deserves a reward.

Which is why I made this:

That be mighty fine pie -- topped with the best homemade whipped cream you never had. (My secret: rum. And vanilla. Hmm. Guess it's not a secret anymore.)

Okay, technically, I made this delicious-looking (and tasting!) pumpkin pie because our neighbors (both of whom are Giants and Fat Tire fans) invited us over for a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving feast yesterday, and we were tasked with bringing a pie and a vegetable. (I made a big autumn salad, even though it feels more like winter.) Also, the kid's been pestering me to make a pumpkin pie for years.

In all, it was a mighty fine Sunday. A win-win-win. (Great football. Great food. Great fun.)

Coming up next on J-TWO-O, things I am thankful for. Stay tuned...

12 NOON OFF-TOPIC UPDATE: This just in: Tiger Woods will no longer be forced to drive a Buick. According to reports, GM will no longer use Woods as a pitchman after this year, which is reportedly fine by Tiger as he hated being taken for an eighty-something driver and wearing those funny driving caps.

*A clarification: I am not technically addicted to Flat Tire (or any other beer or form of alcohol), though it sure felt that way during the latter part of the summer. It was a TURN OF PHRASE, a bit of hyperbole. Happy now, J1?